“They say it is better to be poor and happy than rich and miserable, but how about a compromise like moderately rich and just moody?”

Guess what? It's entirely possible that I'm not bipolar! Yes, a depressive paininthebutt, but not necessarily bipo! The blood tests found that a bunch of my hormones are way outta whack, which could explain the awfulness I've been dealing with the last coupla years, on top of the low b12 that made me think I was going blind, so now... I get to see another doctor. Whee!








Of course, it's after five and I haven't yet heard about the new apartment, but my fingers are still crossed. :)

Holidays are a pain

I'm killing time today. Did chauffeur duty, now I'm bored. Could watch a movie, read a book, go to the pool... meh. Don't wanna do anything. Tomorrow I should find out about the new house and about the doc's test results, so today I'm just antsy. Argh.

Home, where my dogs are sleepin'...

Yeah, I'm an idiot- just found out that line is "where my thought's escaping." Been singing it wrong since I was, oh, 5 or so. Heh.




I've been doing some preliminary househunting. We don't have to have a place 'til the end of July, but I like knowing where my books are gonna be. Found a really nice place today. It's a possible if they keep the awesome rent specials for a little longer.

Saw my new regular-stuff doc today, too, and she's deffo an improvement. Unfortunately, we agreed on enough blood tests that I'm basically exsanguinated now (EIGHT tubes! EIGHT!!), but maybe, hopefully we can use 'em to narrow down whatever the hell is or isn't wrong with me, and I can stop taking so many drugs.

Don't wanna go to work tomorrow. It's good that the biz has picked up, but that couple of weeks when nobody was booking anything was really chill and nice. Course, I'd run out of books if it were always like that- but I can wish!

Put the lime in the coconut, then you'll feel better

Ya know, I can go five years without seeing a doc, and then everything comes down at once. ALL I WANTED was new contacts, and now I find out that a weird blind spot in your vision can mean anything from a viral infection to syphilis to multiple sclerosis to cancer. Yay! I get nine blood tests, a vomitously expensive MRI tomorrow night, and possibly a spinal tap. The neuro yesterday cost 50 bucks, was sooooo snippy, and didn't tell me a damn thing I didn't know from Googling over the weekend. (When will I get a job that pays me just to do research? I'm good at it). I am wigging out, with fear of the results, worry about the money, you name it. No biggie, it's most likely one of the stupid reasons like a B-12 deficiency, but I can't help being scared. I'll let y'all know. Well, unless it's syphilis- it's bad enough having the neuro say, "Well, it's not like you're a virgin, are you?" (Judgey, much?) and my brother faking 18th-century-British-gentlemens' accents and offering to watch "This is Spinal Tap" with me without you goofballs laughing ("Syphilis? What? Nobody's had that since Al Capone! Did she date a geriatric?" etc). Gah. I wish I'd just get squashed by a bus already- it's cheaper.

Feed your head

Huh. After all this time, I may have lucked out on shr- er, mental health professionals. A sensible one who asks for your full history and doesn't just shove a new brand of anti-d's at you is rare, from what I've seen. Still need to see what the bloodwork says, but I'm feeling much, much better about the possibility I can get my head level again long-term.

Going to the park tomorrow. Maybe to the AK, definitely to Halloween Horror Nights. Not a great idea given what a wuss I am, but I've wanted to go for years, and working it last year was not the same thing as going. So it's on.